Home is Where the Heart Is
by piccolina789
Summary: A big mistake. An accident. Confusion. Can Grissom and Sara's relationship survive it all? Set sometime in season 11, no spoilers. GSR.
1. Where Lines are Crossed

**A/N: **I don't know what I'm getting myself into with this one. I'd like to give this story some attention and make it a little longer, but a new semester just started and I'm in a creative writing class, so I have a lot of writing on my hands. I couldn't ignore this idea, though, so I'd like to see what you guys think and then determine how much time and effort I should put into this one. Thanks in advance for any kind of feedback (good or bad!) you want to provide.

And so, enjoy!

* * *

With the feel of the hot Las Vegas sun on her neck, Sara Sidle crouched over a half-washed out, muddy footprint. She placed a ruler on the ground near it and snapped a few photos with her department-issued camera. Wiping a few drops of sweat from her forehead, she gathered her equipment and made her ways towards the front porch, where she took a seat and glanced at her watch. Noon. She had been at the crime scene for over twelve hours. A busy night meant that only Greg had been able to help her with the triple homicide she had been called in for. He had taken off a few hours ago to bring the first batch of evidence to the lab. From the looks of the amount of evidence she had collected since then, her double was looking like it would turn into a triple.

She loaded her kit and dozens upon dozens of marked and sealed evidence bags into her Denali. She paused in the driver's seat to glance at her phone. No missed calls or messages. She gave a small sigh. It was 9 p.m. in Paris. Gil would be just getting home for the night, toeing his shoes off, warming up dinner in the microwave or oven and sitting down with a book or a crossword. She should have heard from him by now. He seemed to be missing their nightly calls more than usual lately.

The lab was busy when she pulled in. Day shift was already there, fighting for evidence priory over the Grave evidence that was just being checked in. Greg didn't even see her walk by, too red in the face from shouting at Hodges that his and Sara's blue fibers were much more important than the gosh darn Alex's trace evidence from Days.

Hours later found Sara in the layout room, her phone mercilessly quiet and her eyes staring at the dozes of photographs taken by her earlier that morning. She wasn't taking in a thing. Her eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, and she saw no reason why she shouldn't give in to the pressure to let them close… just for a few minutes. What could a few minutes hurt?

Lights. The lights were so bright, twinkling against the dark Paris sky. There was a warm hand in hers. She knew without looking that it was him. She could smell the familiar scent of his aftershave and she recognized the pattern of his breathing. She heard his voice in her ear.

"Sara. I love you, Sara."

She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. What was wrong with her voice?

"Sara?"

The feel of his hand was slipping through her fingers. She tried to hold tighter, but it was like trying to hold onto a cloud. He was floating further and further away.

"Sara!"

She awoke with a jolt, picking her head up from the layout table and bringing a photograph of a blood smear with it. Nick was standing above her, smiling. He reached out and unstuck the photograph from her forehead.

"You, uh… having a good dream?"

Sara frowned and kneaded her forehead with her thumbs.

"Sort of."

He took the seat next to her.

"These from the triple in Henderson?"

"Yeah."

He snuck a sideways glance at her and was as surprised as she was to find a tear making a steady path down her cheek.

"Hey," he said, leaning in to nudge her shoulder. "You okay?"

She hastily wiped the tear away. She hated crying in front of others.

"I'm okay," she affirmed, giving him her best attempt at a smile. "Just tired."

"Hey, I've been there," Nick chuckled. "Lord knows I've been there. But… I've never been tired enough that it made me cry. You sure you're okay?"

Sara stared at her hands for a moment before answering.

"I miss him so much," she said finally, hating how her voice cracked as the words came out.

"Grissom?"

She nodded, wondering where this emotion was coming from. All she knew was that this was way harder than she had thought it would be. Going days without hearing his voice, weeks without feeling his touch… it was taking a bigger toll on her than she expected and it was getting harder and harder as time went on. She felt Nick's hand cover her own.

"Go home, Sara," he said kindly. "Get some sleep."

"I can't just leave all this," Sara nearly choked exasperatedly.

"You know what? Let me take you for a drink," he said. "You deserve it."

"Nick, we can't just leave," she countered. "And it's too early for a drink."

"It's 8 p.m., Sar."

Sara stared at him in shock. No way had she slept for two hours…

"You've worked two and a half shifts and it's my night off," he continued. "Let's get a drink."

She let him gather up the photos and tuck them back into the marked envelope. Then she let him put a hand on her elbow and lead her out of the layout room, popping into Catherine's office to let her know they were both leaving, Sara to prevent going on overtime. She waved them goodbye, telling them to have fun and that she wished she could join them.

They took Nick's truck to a local bar, him promising that she needed the drinks more than he did, that he'd only have one and that he'd pick her up for the next shift so she wouldn't have to return for her car. He drove them to a bar that was away from the strip and free of tourists. It was small and dimly lit, and sometimes the beer tasted like it had been sitting on the shelves a little too long, but it had become a favorite haunt of the CSIs when they needed to find peace at the bottom of a bottle for an hour or two. Tom, the bartender, knew their orders by heart and placed two frozen mugs in front of them a few seconds after they sat down on two vacant stools.

They didn't talk about Grissom, Paris, or even, miraculously, work. Sara found herself relaxing in Nick's company, feeling at ease with his easygoing manner and teasing jokes.

"You were right," Sara said suddenly, setting down her beer. "I needed this. Thanks."

"No problem," Nick grinned up at her from his own bottle before his expression hardened just a little. "You want to talk about it?"

"I don't know," Sara sighed. "I don't know if I can even explain it to myself."

Nick nodded, taking another gulp of beer.

"It's just… some days it's fine, and some days I feel like I won't be able to breathe if I don't see him soon," she said, twisting her wedding ring around her finger instinctively. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dumping all this on you."

"Sara," Nick said, placing his hand atop hers. "That's what friends are for. And I grew up with about a dozen sisters and female cousins. You have a good listening ear."

Sara smiled and drained the rest of her bottle.

"You want another one?"

She shook her head. Her vision was a little bit fuzzy already and she knew her limits. Nick nodded.

"I'll take you home."

Nick had kept his promise and restrained himself to just one beer. She appreciated his efforts. She was thankful to have a friend like him.

In Nick's truck, soft country music was coming from the radio, and as they cruised down the familiar streets, against all her wishes, tears started running down her cheeks once again. Nick stopped at a red light and glanced over at her.

"Aw, Sara, sweetheart," he said, putting a hand over hers and giving it a squeeze.

"I don't know where all this is coming from," she said, frustrated. "I swear I'm not pregnant."

Nick had to smile at her joke.

"Even Sara Sidle has to cry sometimes," he said softly.

And so she did. It was probably the most embarrassing thing she had done in a good long while, letting Nick see her cry, but for some reason, she couldn't stop it, and it felt good to let it out. Nick had pulled her half into his lap with a comforting hand on her back, making her feel like he didn't mind it at all. The light must have turned green and back to red by now, but the streets were deserted, and Nick didn't seem to be in any hurry to continue their journey until his friend was all right.

Slowly, the tears seemed to be letting up, although Nick's shirt was considerable wetter than it had been a few minutes ago. She sniffled a few times and looked up at him. They were almost nose-to-nose.

"Feel better?" he breathed.

"Much."

They stared at each other for a few moments and Sara held her breath for all of it. Her pain, her loneliness, her lingering insecurities, combined with the influence of the alcohol, were creating a twisting knot in her stomach, making her think things she'd never thought before. She looked at every strong feature of his face. His jawline, his nose, his understanding eyes. All of a sudden, she wanted to throw herself into Nick's arms. Hell, she was already in Nick's arms.

He was so kind. He had a huge heart, and he was the most selfless person she knew. He always had been. He cared about Sara and he was there. He was _there_.

She didn't know who had closed those last few inches between her lips and Nick's… it might have been her. Then again, it might have been him. His eyes seemed to be reflecting the same emotions she was feeling. All she knew was that their lips met. And then they parted. A moment passed. Their lips met again.

She wiggled herself a little closer to Nick, almost fully on his lap now. The glow of light from behind her indicated that the light was green again, but still they did not move. She felt the car shift a little as Nick put it into park, then glided his hand, over her shirt, on her back. Their breaths were coming in heated, rapid pants. They were all over each other. He felt so different from Grissom. He was all muscle and hardness, while Grissom was soft comfort. But God help her, she didn't hate it. It was only when both their hands simultaneously moved under the others shirt that exactly what she was doing hit her with a jolt. She pulled away suddenly.

"Oh my God."

Nick stared back at her, a mixture of guilt, confusion and passion in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, stroking her cheek.

"What are we doing?" Sara asked, more to herself than anything. "What are we _doing_?"

"Sara-"

"I'm married," she continued, hysterically. "_Married_."

She slid back into the passenger seat, fastening the seat belt as her eyes moved around rapidly and one hand became lost in her hair. Silence fell between them as the light turned red once more.

"This shouldn't have happened," Nick said evenly. "I've never… I never meant to… I would never want to take advantage of you, Sara."

"I know," she answered quietly. "This was my fault."

"No, it wasn't," Nick said firmly. "You're… not yourself. This was my fault. I promise it'll never happen again."

Sara looked over to smile at him.

"Can we just pretend it never did happened?" she asked almost pleadingly.

Nick let out a choked laugh.

"Pretend what never happened?"

They both leaned back into the headrest. She was overwhelmed. She didn't know how to contemplate what had just happened. She loved Grissom. She knew that. The worst thing about it was that she didn't hate what just happened with Nick. She almost liked the way his hands felt around her neck and how his lips tasted on hers. She squeezed her eyes shut. What was going on?

When she opened her eyes the light had turned green. Nick started to inch forward.

"Sara?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

She turned to look at him, and when he turned to meet her gaze his eyes widened.

"Sara!"

The last thing she saw was a blinding white light and a deafening honk of a horn.

* * *

**TBC!**


	2. When Vision is Blurry

**A/N: **Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce my first-ever beta, ILoveJorja. Thanks for helping me work around the details. I'm looking forward to what you can bring to the story :)

I hope I didn't scare too many people off with that first chapter. If you're back to read again, I promise it'll pay off. Enjoy!

* * *

The first thing he saw was a wall that was way too bright. And a headache was pounding in his head. Sunshine was pouring through patterned curtains on a small window. This wasn't right. It couldn't be any later than 11 p.m. He had been in the car with Sara… _Sara_.

He tried to sit up, but an excruciating pain in his left shoulder stopped him in his tracks. A gentle hand was placed on his good shoulder and guided him back to the pillows.

"Good morning, sunshine."

A 30-something, brunette nurse was smiling down at him. As his brain struggled to catch up, he put together that he was in a hospital room. The steady pulse of machine beeps was a big clue, as were the computers monitoring his vitals and the nurse standing with a chart in hand.

He opened his mouth to try to speak, but his mouth was so dry, no noise came out. The nurse seemed to understand, and offered him a drink of water from a tall glass with an orange straw. She held it inches from his mouth. He hated being helped like a child, but his arm had an IV in it, and he didn't feel like overworking his shoulder again any time soon.

He took a few sips of the water, and the liquid running down his throat felt like heaven.

"Sara."

If the nurse understood, she made no acknowledgment. She bustled around the room, opening the curtains a little further, tested the movement of his fingers and neck and made a few notes on his chart.

"You were very lucky, Mr. Stokes," she said. "A crash like that could have left you in a coma."

His brain still felt like it was being swirled in a washing machine.

"Nick," he croaked. "Who are you? What happened?"

"Vanessa," she smiled at him. "You were in an accident, Nick."

His eyes closed as the memory washed over him. He had been at the intersection, in the car with Sara. The bright light, the honking… it sounded as if a car had been coming at them at full speed. He opened his eyes to see Vanessa at his bedside, placing a newly refilled cup of water on the table.

"It was a drunk driver," she said, answering another question of his. "The Chief of Surgery just told me he died on the table a few hours ago. He wasn't wearing his seatbelt and he went through his front windshield. His BAC was through the roof. The accident report says he was swerving through the intersection and hit the front passenger side of your car, full speed. You're very lucky."

"Sara," he managed to say. It seemed to take a whole lot of energy to say the two syllables. He hoped the inflection in his voice made it clear to Vanessa that he was asking a question. He wanted nothing more than to know that she was okay.

Vanessa nodded solemnly.

"Dr. Lowell told me there was another passenger in your car," she said. "I don't know how she's doing. She's not on this floor."

"Check," he croaked.

Vanessa nodded again.

"Okay."

She made her way to the door, but paused before she got there.  
"There's a whole bunch of people waiting to see you," she said. "I've been keeping them updated for the last few hours, but I'm sure they'd love to see you in person whenever you're up for it."

Nick closed his eyes again and smiled. He knew exactly who that group of people had to be.

"I'm ready," he said, his throat burning again. He wanted some more of that water.

"I'll send them in."

When she left, Nick took inventory of his injuries. His shoulder was definitely dislocated and from the feel of it, there was most likely a pretty big laceration on his left leg. He closed his eyes and an image of himself being jerked sideways in the driver's seat, his body making painful contact with the car's door, flashed before his eyes. He moved his jaw around a little. It felt like he might have a few stitches in his cheek. If the accident was really as bad as it sounded like, Vanessa was right. He had been pretty lucky.

He felt a few tears squeezing out the corners of his eyes. He wanted to know where Sara was. He wanted to see her. He wondered if the team had called Grissom and if he was on his way. God, he hoped so. He would trade anything in the world right now to see Sara unscathed, wrapped in Grissom's arms.

A searing pain of guilt ripped through his midsection as he remembered the activities that had led up to the accident. He had kissed Sara. Or she had kissed him, he wasn't really sure. But he knew that it had happened, and that he hated himself for it. There was nobody that he respected more than Grissom, and nobody he held in higher esteem than Sara. And he had knowingly and deliberately hurt the both of them. What had he done?

A light tap of the door redirected his attention. Catherine, Greg, Ray and Brass were gathered in the doorway. Catherine's eyes were watery and even Greg looked a little shaky. They all looked like they hadn't fared well in the last few hours.

"Hey, Nick," Catherine breathed, looking afraid to enter the room.

His heart warmed at the sight of them.

"Get over here."

Catherine gave him a tender kiss on the forehead, and Greg, Ray and Brass put a reassuring hand on his good shoulder. They looked relieved to see him breathing and smiling.

"Thank God you're all right, Nicky," Catherine said.

"We were really worried," Greg added. "The only reason they let us know what was going on was when Ray pulled the doctor card."

"It comes in handy every once in a while," Ray winked at him.

"How long have you been here?" Nick asked, nearly winded from putting together such a long sentence.

"Since about 1 a.m.," Brass answered. "I got the call and gave the team the head's up right away. Worst call of my life."

"We didn't know if you would make it," Catherine said, her voice soft and trembling.

Her hand was resting on the rail of his bed. He covered it with his own, giving it as good a squeeze as he could give. She bit her lip and smiled back at him. He had recuperated since his last question. But he wasn't quite sure he wanted to hear the answer to his next one.

"How's Sara? Where is she?"

The response was not the one he had hoped for. Greg shifted weight from one foot to the other as several tears raced down Catherine's cheeks. Brass looked at the ground. Only Ray could meet his gaze.

"We're still not sure," he said quietly. "They won't tell us much, but we know she's still in surgery for internal injuries. They think she'll make it, but… they're not sure what the lasting consequences may be."

Nick felt his eyes flutter closed as he let the news wash over him. The gnawing pit in his stomach throbbed harder.

"The bastard hit the hood on her side of the car," Brass said. "It looks like an accordion."

Nick could only manage one word in response, but it wasn't due to his dry throat.

"Grissom?"

Catherine sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve before she answered.

"We called him right away," she said. "It was 10 a.m. in Paris when we found out. He was in class, but he answered after we called four times. He's on his way."

Nick opened his mouth, but Greg answered him before he could let any sounds out.

"He'll be here in about two hours," he said. "We pulled some strings and got him a jet flight. David is going to get him and bring him to the hospital. We're hoping he'll get here as we find out how's she's doing."

Nick's head was pounding, thudding like he had two drumsticks banging on his temples.

"You need your rest," Catherine murmured, a light hand on his arm. "We'll let you rest."

She bent down to plant another kiss on his forehead. He wondered if his cheeks were too scratched and bruised for her to kiss him there.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered. "I don't know what I would have done."

"We won't have to find out."

Catherine nodded and pulled back as each of the guys nodded at him. Greg hung behind as they filed towards the door.

"I'll stop by later, okay, man?"

Nick nodded.

"Anything you need, I'll do it. Feel better, okay?"

Nick watched him take the first few steps towards the door.

"Greggo?"

"Yeah?"

"Just one thing."

"Name it."

Nick paused, gathering the energy to express how important his request was.

"Tell me everything you find out about Sara," he said as Greg nodded. "And soon as she's up for it, I want to see her."

"You got it, Nick."

He wanted to stay awake. He wanted to wait until Vanessa got back so he could drink more water and then ask more questions about Sara. He wanted get any and every doctor who had worked on her to come down and tell her what they knew. But exhaustion took hold of him the minute Greg closed the door behind him. His eyelids slid shut and sleep took him over, taking him to the place where there was usually blissful ignorance. But for the first time in many years, he had a restless sleep. Visions of car crashes, blinding lights and a bleeding Sara filled his mind. Only his aching kept him from tossing and turning all afternoon long.

* * *

"Fractured shoulder, lots of lacerations and bruises," a voice was saying.

"He was lucky."

When Nick's eyes fluttered open again, the curtains were still drawn, but no sunlight poured in, pooling on the floor beside his bed. Deep darkness was all he saw, paired with the twinkling lights of Las Vegas. It was dark in the room, but he could barely make out two dim, blurry figures were standing with their backs to his bed. He could decipher from the voices that had spoken earlier that one was female and one was male. They both sounded distinctly familiar. If he had to make a guess, it was Vanessa and… Grissom? Was that really him?

"We talked to him earlier," a third voice pitched in. Catherine, maybe? "He seemed relieved you were coming, Griss."

A little bit of weight was lifted off his shoulders. Grissom _was _there. Thank God.

"I'll be back to check on him later," the first voice said. "Call me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Vanessa," Grissom's voice came, soft and kind. "How did it happen, Cath?"

Nick listened to Catherine repeat what Brass had told him about the accident. He wondered what time it was. If it was late enough to be dark, surely several hours had passed. He wondered if they knew any more about Sara.

"Grissom."

His voice came out croaky again, and his throat begged for water. Catherine seemed to read his mind and she lifted the plastic cup with its orange straw to his mouth. He drained it, and she left him and Grissom alone while she went to refill it. His ex-supervisor took the lone seat by his bed. His hair was mussed and tussled, and he had dark circles underneath his ocean blue eyes.

"Hey, Nick," he said, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. "I can't say this is how I imagined seeing you again."

Nick gave him a small smile and shook his head.

"How are you feeling? Are you all right?"

Nick ignored his question.

"Sara," he said instead. "How is she?"

"She's… stable," Grissom said, running a hand through his hair. "They won't let me see her, but I know she's banged up pretty bad."

"I'm so sorry," Nick whispered, feeling tears burn his eyes.

"Nick, it's not your fault," he said. "You were hit by a drunk driver… he could have taken both your lives. I'm just glad you're both alive."

"But is she… when can we see her?"

Grissom gave him a sad smile.

"Greg told me you were worried about her," he said. "He's come in three times since she was checked into the ICU, but you've been sleeping like a rock."

Nick held his gaze, telling him with his eyes he wanted to know more.

"She has a concussion," Grissom relented. "She's been unconscious since she got here, and they're unsure when she'll wake, or what the effects of it will be. Her shoulder's dislocated, her wrist is sprained and she had pretty extensive surgery to fix internal injuries and close up a gash in her stomach. She…"

Grissom stopped short as his voice hitched. Nick lifted his hand, the one without the IV, to cover Grissom's. It was shaking. Neither of them knew what to say. The words 'it's going to be okay' seemed false and unpromising.

"Thanks, Nick," Grissom said finally, breaking the silence.

Nick gazed at him, confused.

"For what?"

"For looking after her while we're apart," Grissom answered. "There's no one I trust her with more than you."

As more images flashed before his eyes, kissing Sara, holding her close to him, feeling every vertebrae in her spine as he ran his hand down her back, another sharp searing pain of guilt rippled through his midsection. He never hated himself more than he did now.

"Griss," he started slowly. "I have something to tell you."

A sharp knock at the door interrupted him. It was Vanessa.

"Nick? Mr. Grissom?" she said hurriedly. "I'm sorry to interrupt you… it's Sara. She's awake."

* * *

**TBC!**


	3. When Memories Fade

**A/N: **We're supposed to get 16-24 inches of snow where I am tonight! The roads are insane outside. I'm hoping that classes will be canceled tomorrow and I can use the whole day to write! What do you say, will you pray to the snow gods for me?

* * *

"No way. Absolutely not. Nick, it's too soon."

"I'm going," he countered, glaring at Catherine. Didn't she know how important this was? "Greg, help me into the chair."

Greg's eyes flitted from Nick, to Catherine to the wheelchair parked beside his bed.

"Greg!"

The younger man moved towards him and started to help him into the wheelchair. Catherine groaned, but moved closer to help.

"The nurse said it was okay," Nick countered.

"She said it was acceptable," Catherine corrected. "Not advisable."

Nick ground his jaw as a jolt of pain shot through his shoulder. No way he was letting Catherine know how much pain he was actually in, because there was no way he was sitting and waiting in that damn bed while the rest of the team saw Sara. And anyway, the longer she protested, the longer it was keeping them, including Grissom, who had agreed to letting them come with him, from seeing Sara.

He settled himself in the chair as best he could, and Greg started to wheel him out the door and down the hall. The ICU was a busy unit, with doctors and nurses running about with folders tucked under their arms and patients and families making their way around the halls. He took deep breaths as they walked, and he was wheeled, down so many hallways he was certain they would never find their way back. Finally, they paused outside room 127. A tall doctor with a five o'clock shadow was standing outside, holding a clipboard loosely to his chest.

"I'm glad you're here," he said by way of a greeting. "I'm Dr. Adam Victor."

"Gil Grissom," Grissom said, extending his hand and peeking into the small room at the same time. "How is she?"

"We're not entirely sure," Dr. Victor answered. "Most everything is stable. We're waiting to see her response to her friends and family to determine the effects of the concussion. It can be anything from just a headache to severe memory loss."

"Memory loss?" Catherine repeated.

The doctor nodded.

"Most likely, she'll have no recollection of the actual accident," he said. "That much we're sure. What we don't know is how much of everything else she'll rememer. That's where you come in."

He glanced at all of them before speaking. Ray and Brass had joined them at the doorway.

"She may be overjoyed to see you, she may be overwhelmed. She may remember you, she may not. Just be patient, and we'll develop a recovery plan from here."

He gestured them in.

Sara was lying stock-still in bed, hooked up to as many machines as Nick had had earlier that morning. She looked weaker and limper than Nick had ever seen her, and that scared him. The Sara Sidle he knew was tough as nails. Her eyes were closed when they entered the room, and they remained closed when they circled around her bed. Her entire right arm was in a cast, her head was bandaged and Nick knew her stomach must be, too. Her left eye was bruised, she had a cut above her lip and so many scratches down her arms that it looked like a particularly nasty cat had went hay-wire on her. They all stared at her for a few moments before Grissom reached out and tenderly took her hand.

"Honey?" he said softly. "Sara? Can you hear me?"

They waited a few painful seconds with bated breath before Sara's dark eyelashes fluttered open. She took them all in, looking as exhausted and sore as Nick felt. His heart broke for her.

"Hi," she breathed.

Grissom was doing a fantastic job holding in the tears that were threatening to spill over. Nick had never seen his supervisor cry. He suddenly felt very out of place, wishing that he had let Grissom and Sara have a moment alone before they all came to see her. But he had insisted. The team was just as much her family as he was, he had said. And Nick was so anxious to see her breathing and alive that he had agreed without a second thought. Without saying anything, he felt his wheelchair moving backwards. Greg was pulling him slowly back towards the door, and the rest of the team was following. The look in Catherine's eyes told him that she felt exactly as he did.

They backed out of the room and left Grissom alone with Sara. She was okay, relatively speaking. They would have her time with her later.

Inside the room, Grissom and Sara were looking at each other with watery eyes. Grissom's were from emotion. Sara's were from pain.

"Too hard," she managed, her eyes flickering to their intertwined fingers.

"Sorry," Grissom said in horror, placing her hand on the mattress and softly stroking her fingers instead.

"What… what happened?"

"You were in an accident, honey," Grissom replied, wanting to kiss her, touch her, stroke her cheek, but afraid that he would hurt her again. "A drunk driver blindsided the passenger seat. You're pretty banged up, but… I think you're going to be okay. Nick's okay, too. He was driving."

It took a long time for Sara to process all this new information. A few times, a look of confusion crossed over her face, but she didn't say a word or ask any questions. Grissom held a cup of water to her lips as Catherine had done for Nick.

"Where am I?"

"The hospital, honey," Grissom replied tenderly.

"What… what was I doing with Nick?"

Grissom paused.

"You don't remember anything, about the accident?"

Sara closed her eyes. She couldn't hear, see or remember anything except a really bright white light.

"No," she replied shakily. "Nick… he's here?"

"Yes."

"Can I… can I see him?"

"Oh," Grissom stuttered, taken off guard. "I, uh… sure."

He stood, pausing for a moment. He wanted to feel nothing at her request, but he couldn't help but feel a little upset that she had asked for Nick so quickly. He wanted nothing more than to sit by her side for hours, just the two of them. But he moved towards the door and gestured the team back in. They all looked tearful, but relieved.

"Hi, Sara," Catherine breathed, her hand over her mouth.

"Hey, sweetheart," Brass said, more softly than Grissom had ever heard him.

Greg wheeled Nick close to the bed and reached out to stroke her hair.

"Thank God you're okay," he said.

Nick tenderly put his fingers on hers.

"Hey, Sara."

"Hey, yourself."

"How are you feeling?" he asked, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"How are _you_ feeling?"

He smiled in spite of himself.

"Okay."

She nodded.

"I don't know about you, but I feel like I could run a marathon."

Even Brass had to chuckle at that one.

"So, Sara, you… remember all of us?" Catherine asked tentatively.

Sara took a moment to glance around at each of them.

"I… I think so," she said finally. "But the details are fuzzy."

They gave her a short quiz. She remembered each of them, and that they worked together, but she couldn't remember where or what they did. She also assumed that they were all friendly, but that fact was about all she let on. She recognized each face, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't place any memories associated with any of them.

She had no recollection of her career as a CSI, either in Vegas or San Francisco. She said she remembered everything from childhood to high school, but they had to take her word for it because she wouldn't share the details. She couldn't remember a thing about the accident, or, obviously, the events that had taken place since.

"It's all… a big blur," she said. "Like I can get a glimpse of the images, but I can't see them long enough to know what they are."

"Is there anything you want to ask us, Sara?" Greg prompted. "I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

He crossed his heart with his fingers.

"And in case you were wondering, no, we're not dating," he added.

A ghost of a smile came to Sara's lips, but it faded before any of them were sure it had actually happened.

"What did you say I do again? For a living?"

"You're a CSI," Catherine said, taking that one. Grissom seemed to be having a hard time digesting her memory loss and confusion. As far as he could tell, she recollected nothing about their relationship. She kept fiddling with her wedding band, though, so she knew it was there.

"A damn good one," Catherine continued. "You worked in San Francisco before coming here to Las Vegas."

They re-explained to her where she lived, what she liked doing, that she was a vegetarian, that she loved reading mystery novels and that she was incapable of cooking anything but toast. And possibly pasta.

"You're probably tired, kiddo," Brass said finally, knowing the doctors would want to run tests. "We'll let you rest."

"Just one more question," Sara said, glancing furtively at her lap. "Am I… married?"

The entire group was silent at that one.

"Yes," Grissom finally answered, softly.

Brown eyes met blue for a while, and Grissom thought he saw a flicker of realization cross her eyes. Or maybe he was so desperate, he had imagined it.

"But… to who?"

His heart positively sank at those three words. His world crashed down around his ears. Sara, the love of his live, the heart and soul of his entire being, could not remember who he was. She could not remember their life together, their lovemaking, their long talks late into the night, their walks around the Paris gardens, their time spent together as co-workers in Vegas, their entire history… gone. He felt a dark emptiness pressing down upon him.

"You… really don't remember?" Greg asked her.

"No."

"Do you… do you want to know?" Catherine whispered.

Sara paused. Her eyes moved from Greg to Ray, Brass to Nick and, finally, landed on Grissom.

"No," she said softly.

"You're sure, kiddo?" Brass added.

"I want to… I want to figure it out for myself," she managed. "Just… give me some time."

At that point, Dr. Victor re-entered the room, and he probably said something about taking a look at Sara, but the thudding of Grissom's heart was too loud for him to really hear. The rest of the group was leaving, so he forced his legs to work so he would leave too. Every fiber of his being wanted to stay with Sara, to tell her everything, in hopes that she would remember him again. But she was looking drained, and Dr. Victor was already crouching over her bedside. The best thing he could do for her right now, as much as it killed him, was to leave her.

* * *

**TBC! **


	4. Fork in a Foggy Road

**A/N: **1. We had not one, not two, but THREE snow days! Sometimes it pays off living with sucky winter weather. I'm looking forward to tomorrow. No school + The Two Mrs. Grissoms = the best day ever.

2. Sorry for making so many people cry with the last chapter! I can't promise no more tears, but I promise I'm not doing it on purpose!

3) Shout outs to two ladies: ILoveJorja for the beta (thanks!) and CSIFan8686, whom I wish I could give a hug to right now. Take this chapter as my virtual hug.

* * *

Nick didn't see Sara for the next four days. Neither did Greg or Grissom or Catherine. The doctors were busy sweeping in and out of her room, making sure her stitches weren't infected and checking on the swelling in her head and they all agreed that now was not the time for visitors, no matter how anxious they may be. Grissom had took to haunting the visitor's lobby, taking comfort in the fact that they were at least in the same building, and every day hoping that he would be allowed in his wife's room again. He dreamt every night of losing Sara, each time in different ways. A car crash, a gun shot wound, or sometimes, just her leaving her for a younger, better man. He hadn't had such thoughts in years. But Sara's memory loss had fostered a sense of insecurity he couldn't seem to shake. His worst possible scenario included Sara never fully getting her memory back, and starting a new life with another man, because she never remembered or recognized the love they had for each other.

He ran mindless errands to keep his body busy, even if it didn't make his mind distracted. He returned to Sara's quiet apartment, cleaned it and went grocery shopping to stock her kitchen in preparation for her return. He made calls to Paris arranging an extended leave so he could stay in Vegas as long as necessary. He got someone to take Hank to a doggie day care. He contacted a professor to take over his courses while he was gone, and e-mailed him the syllabus and his papers from the semester so far.

He slept in Sara's bed every night, burying his head in the sheets that still smelled like her. A few times, he took out one of her shirts, draped it around her pillow and hugged it to his chest. Somehow, it made him feel even emptier than he was before.

He visited Nick every day. He was improving greatly, and was set to be released soon. Catherine gave him two weeks medical leave, with the promise of more, if needed, and the team worked out a schedule to stop in and check on him, give him company and help out with the things he had a hard time accomplishing with one good arm.

He waited patiently by the phone, waiting for the hospital to call in the hour he was not there, which, admittedly, weren't many. He thought about bringing a few photos to help jog Sara's memory, but he knew that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to remember on her own time. And as Grissom told himself time and time again, if she really loved him the way she said she did, and the way he loved her, she'd find her way back to him.

* * *

Sara Sidle didn't really hate hospitals. She had spent enough time in them during her youth that she was rather comfortable in the often overwhelming setting by the time she was ten years old. She had always found the doctors smart, the nurses nice and the cafeteria relatively well stocked.

Of course, that didn't mean she particularly liked them, either. She was bored sitting in bed day after day, but she was still in too much pain to go home. There was no way she could take care of herself and every once in a while, her concussion made her slip back into unconsciousness for either minutes or hours at a time.

She did have a lot of time to think. She stared for hours at the gold band on her finger and tried to remember who put it there. It was exhausting, remembering. All she had managed in four days were brief images, none of them in order and none of them making any sense. She remembered old boyfriends, from her teenage and college years, but she knew they could be eliminated. It had to be someone from her present. And the more she thought about it, the more she was sure it had to be someone from her work. She knew herself well enough to know that she threw herself into whatever was her passion. It _had _to be someone from work.

* * *

"Look, I told you it wouldn't be ready for forty-five minutes, so come back in fifteen and stop being impatient with me!"

Greg sighed.

"Sorry, Hodges," he said, vaguely aware that he was apologizing to David Hodges. What was this world coming to? "I just want the results so I can give them to Catherine and get to Desert Palm."

"Visiting Nick?" the tech asked.

Greg nodded.

He'd visited Nick in the hospital in almost every spare second of his free time. He was there so often, his body was starting to adjust to either sleeping in an uncomfortable hospital chair, or getting three hours of sleep in his own bed. Every time, he'd stop by to see if he was allowed to see Sara yet and hang around for a few hours just in case. So far, no can do. He'd started to be as frequent an inquisitor as Grissom, and the receptionists had taken to shaking their head remorsefully at him before he even had a chance to open his mouth.

But today, at least there was a little something to look forward to. Nick had been cleared, and would be able to go home that afternoon. Greg was going to take him home, cook dinner and stick around long enough for his pain meds to kick in and he fell asleep. He was planning on stopping by Sara's ward beforehand. What the heck, he was feeling lucky today.

By the grace of God, Hodges' results printed five minutes early, and Greg was off to the hospital in no time. His stomach twisted in knots as he approached the reception desk, but to his shock and surprise, the receptionist smiled at him. His eyes widened.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," she grinned at him. "She's been asking for you."

"God damnit."

The swear came from behind him. He turned to see Grissom approaching the desk angrily.

"I'm her damn husband," he growled. "I want to see her before him. I want to see her now."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Grissom," the receptionist said calmly. "But she's asked for Mr. Sanders specifically. I'll let you know if she's up for any more visitors when his time is up."

Greg was glad looks couldn't kill, because if they did, he'd be dead as a doornail from the glare Grissom was sending his way. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he muttered an apology and scooted through the double doors that led to the hallway containing Sara's room. He paused outside her doorway. Had she remembered anything? If she had, why was he here? There was only one way to find out.

He knocked on the door frame, pausing to lean against it and survey the figure in the bed. She still looked exhausted and beat up, but her eyes had more light behind them, and she smiled and genuine smile when she looked up and saw him.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you," he said.

"Good to see you too, Greg."

He sat on the stool next to her bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," she answered. "But…"

"Still not great," Greg finished, smiling at her sympathetically. "How's the memory?"

At that, Sara sobered.

"It's… not any better," she said. "Greg, I… I can't remember."

He squeezed her hand as she started tearing up.

"I can't remember if I married Nick or Grissom."

Now that caught Greg by surprise. He stared at her.

"Grissom or… Nick?" he repeated slowly.

She gave a tearful nod.

"You've… eliminated the rest of us?"

Through her tears, she gave him a faint smile.

"I'm still logical," she said. "I know it's not Ray or Brass. And I get… flashes. You're the only one without flashes that are… intimate."

Greg nodded, taking a minute to process this. It hit him at once.

"Wait," he said. "You have flashes of being intimate with Grissom _and_ Nick?"

She studied him for a moment.

"I can't remember much about you, but I have a feeling we're close," she said. "Do you promise not to tell anyone what I'm about to say?"

Greg cleared his throat.

"Of course."

Sara nodded and swallowed hard.

"They're different," she said finally. "The flashes. I see bits of me and Grissom… kissing. And… other things. I think we've made love. But it's… confusing."

Greg scratched at a nonexistent itch on his nose. This could get uncomfortable.

"I also remember… yelling," she said. "Tears, sadness, loneliness. All of it associated with him."

Greg hoped with all his heart that these memories were from their more difficult years. If he was still toying with her heart, he'd personally kill him.

"Me and Nick," she continued. "I see… laughing. Smiling and teasing… just being happy."

She closed her eyes as if to better see the fragmented memories.

"Kissing," she said, making Greg's mouth drop a little. He was glad her eyes were closed. "Touches."

Her eyes opened again.

"I just… wish I knew what it all meant," she concluded.

Greg squeezed her hand again.

"Oh, Sara," he said. "I wish I knew what to do to help you."

"You are helping, Greg," she said. "By listening. The doctors say they're confident it'll all come back, eventually. They just don't know exactly when. I'm just… impatient, I guess."

"Visiting hours are only until six tonight," he said. "Do you want to see any one else?"

"Is anyone else around?"

"Grissom's in the lobby," he said hesitantly. He didn't want to sway her memories one way or the other, but he had to admit, it hurt seeing her like this. And it sucked seeing Grissom so miserable. He wanted the two of them married and happy again like usual.

"Bring him in," Sara nodded.

"Okay."

He paused and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"It'll all come back, Sara," he assured her. "I know it will. You'll be out of here and back to your old self in no time."

Sara made no response, but smiled at him, a little sadly. It wasn't until he was at the door that she finally made a sound.

"Thanks, Greg."

* * *

"Hi, hon-" Grissom stopped himself short. "Hi."

"Hey."

Sara had a little to show for staying five days in the hospital. She was sitting up in bed this time, her eyes with a little life behind them, and a handful of her scratches starting to fade.

"How are you feeling?"

Sara thought about it a bit.

"Getting there," she said finally.

He made his way cautiously towards the stool near her bed, unsure if he'd be able to sit that close to her without touching her, or breaking down and explaining everything to her, desperate for her to remember. Sara seemed to sense his hesitancy.

"Go ahead," she encouraged. "But… don't say much. Just listen… for now."

Grissom nodded at her, his eyes sweeping over every inch of her, taking inventory of how her injuries looked.

"I, um," she started, stopping to take a deep breath before continuing. "Dr. Victor said I'd be able to go home tomorrow. I just… don't know where home is. I'm… assuming both you and Nick have a place in Vegas."

Grissom tilted his head as he considered this. At this point, his place in Vegas was Sara's place. Although, if Sara had no recollection of where she lived, he could always pass off her place for his own until she remembered.

"I've been thinking… a lot," she continued. "And I'm still confused. But when I go home tomorrow, I'm going to make my decision. I'm going to go home with… whomever I decide. I just haven't made up my mind yet."

Grissom nodded slowly, contemplating this information. It seemed logical. And fair enough. And as Sara proceeded, she didn't make another mention about the decision she'd be making, or her release from the hospital. Instead, she wanted to just spend time with Grissom, watching television with him and talking, and that's exactly what they did. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, be with his wife without acting like a husband. He caught himself several times before slipping out an endearment, and he eventually had to sit on his hands to prevent himself from reaching out and touching her.

He tried to just be happy that he was with her and that she seemed relatively at ease. But at the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think that there was the possibility of losing her tomorrow. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. Life without Sara… wasn't really life at all.

* * *

**TBC!**


	5. Where Decisions are Made

**A/N: **Everyone calmed down from the Two Mrs. Grissoms? No? Me either. Just mentioning it makes me want to watch it again.

I feel bad writing even a smidge of angst after being handed so much fluff from TPTB, but... stick with me? Thanks, ILoveJorja, for helping me sort through this chapter :)

* * *

A few months ago, Grissom had negotiated with the Sorbonne and finagled himself a Friday and a Monday off, leaving him with a rare long weekend. He didn't tell Sara about it until Thursday night. She had had a rough day. Grissom learned that that happened to her every once in a while, sometimes for no specific reason, and each time was different. Sometimes she needed a long walk and some space, sometimes she needed nothing but spending all night in his arms. In any case, she hadn't been herself that day; possibly thinking about her impending departure back to Vegas a week later, and dinner was a quiet affair that night. Until Grissom told Sara to peek under her cotton patterned placemat, where earlier he had hidden an envelope. She had given him a curious look, but moved aside her plate of vegetarian fajitas and unearthed his surprise – two tickets to Italy.

He'd never considered himself much of a romantic, but something had spurred him on late one night as he struggled to get through writing a lecture and he booked the tickets on a whim. He thanked the gods that he did when he saw how wide Sara's eyes and smile got as she read the information on the tickets. Fajitas forgotten, she nearly knocked over the table trying to get to him, taking his head in her hands and crashing her mouth against his.

The weekend in Italy was one of the best few days of his life. He and Sara wandered the Italian Riviera, ate the best Italian food either of them had ever tasted and engaged in some of the most memorable nighttime activities in recent memory. All of this was flashing through Grissom's mind as he made his way to Valentino's on the Strip to meet Catherine for dinner. Italian food in Vegas just couldn't live up to Italian food in Genoa. But, it was one of Catherine's favorites, and if he were to be honest, he could use the company.

He was only two minutes away when his phone started ringing from the cup holder of Sara's car. He restrained from rolling his eyes. Catherine, ever the impatient date.

"I'm almost there, Catherine," he said. "Give me two seconds."

"We're going to have to reschedule."

The frankness in her voice made him stop short.

"Is everything okay?"

"It's fine, Gil-"

"Catherine," he said, firmness in his voice. "Is Sara okay?"

She paused, and for a moment, Grissom's heart stopped.

"She's fine," Catherine responded finally, allowing Grissom to exhale. "But I have to take care of something. Can we just reschedule?"

Grissom sighed. He had a feeling there was something she wasn't telling him, but with Catherine, there was no use forcing the issue.

"Sure," he said. "I'll be at home."

He disconnected the call and stared at the closed phone. What he wouldn't give for it to ring again, this time with Sara's tone and picture, and her voice on the other line, calming him down.

* * *

Sara was nervous. She couldn't decide if she had a right to be or not, but regardless, the butterflies were squirming around.

Butterflies.

She pressed her eyes shut and saw several images flash before her eyes – a butterfly tattoo, framed butterflies on a wall and a butterfly charm. More pieces, but it was like trying to put together a puzzle without the box. No idea of where you're going or what you're supposed to end up with.

She opened her eyes to see a familiar face across the lobby of the hospital. Thank goodness. She was happy in her decision to call Catherine, and not Grissom or Nick, or even Greg or Brass. She needed Catherine's strength right now.

"Hi, Sara," she said, making her way across the lobby to her. She crouched down and put her hands on Sara's knees. "How are you feeling?"

Sara nodded slowly.

"I'm okay," she said. "I'm tired of being tired… done with being frustrated."

Catherine nodded her understanding.

"Anything I can do to help?"

Sara appreciated her effort.

"I don't think so."

Her colleague nodded again as her eyes swept over the fading bruises and scratches covering her face.

"Are you ready to go home?"

"You have no idea."

Sara was able to leave the wheelchair behind and with Catherine's help, was soon settled in the passenger seat of the car parked out front.

Catherine began their drive towards Sara's apartment. A few weeks after leaving Vegas, Grissom called and asked Catherine to sell his townhouse and have his things shipped to Paris when he and Sara eventually settled down there. When Sara made the decision to rejoin the Vegas team, she was left to pick a small, simple apartment to rent out for the few weeks she was in town. Although Sara hadn't specified exactly where "home" was, she made no objections as they pulled down her street and into her driveway.

"You have any food?" Catherine asked as they exited the vehicle. "I can make you dinner."

Sara stared at her, both somber and joking.

"I can't remember."

Catherine smiled back at her.

"C'mon."

Catherine used the spare key Sara had given her in case of emergencies – she was now her secondary emergency contact since her husband spent his time on another continent – but she hadn't needed to, the front door was open. Catherine wondered briefly if Grissom was home, and if this would be a problem, but before she could contemplate it any further, the man in question appeared in the front hallway, still dressed for dinner. She was surprised to feel Sara freeze beside her.

"Hi," Grissom said softly.

Sara paused before giving the same reply.

"I, uh… can you leave you guys alone… if you want?" Catherine stuttered, clearly uncomfortable. It took a lot to make that happen.

She felt Sara touch her arm. She turned around to see her eyes soft and thankful.

"Thanks, Cath."

She smiled back at her.

"Any time," she said. "Call me if you need anything. Bye, Gil."

And with that, she left, leaving a blatant air of discomfort. Sara and Grissom stood on opposite sides of the hallway, staring at each other and not making eye contact all at the same time. It was extraordinary how they managed it.

"How're you-"

"I didn't know that-"

The attempt at conversations were started at the same time, and stopped with blushed cheeks.

Eventually, Sara shrugged and tried again.

"I don't really know how to go about this," Sara said with a half smile on her face, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"You, uh…" Grissom started, unsure of how to phrase the next few words without sounding childish. "You picked me?"

No such luck. But too late now.

She smiled a little more.

"Yeah," she said. "I picked you."

She took a few more cautious steps into the apartment and set the bag she had with her down on a table.

"I still don't remember," she said, a little shakily. "Things still don't make sense. But there's… something about you. Something I feel when I'm around you. I just… I think that this is right."

Grissom didn't know what to say, what to do, so he just smiled at her for a few moments.

"It's your home," he said finally. "Maybe it'll help you remember."

It was strange, trying to familiarize herself in a place she apparently called home for nearly a year. She walked around slowly, taking everything in. Grissom hung back in the entrance hallway as she roamed around. He followed her like her shadow, however, when she meandered towards the bedroom, where the few and only personal touches were kept. She ran her fingers over the frames on the dresser, most of them filled with snapshots of them together. But it was when she got to the last one that she paused, closing her eyes.

"Hank."

The word was so soft, Grissom wasn't entirely sure she'd uttered it.

"H-honey?"

She opened her eyes and looked right at him.

"Hank," she repeated. "Our dog."

"Yeah," he said, a smile coming unconsciously to his face, his entire being flooded with hope. "The laziest, happiest, drooliest dog around."

Sara nodded, turning her gaze back to the last framed photograph. Its frame was full of the slobbery, loving face of their dog.

"I remember."

"More… flashes?" he prompted.

She nodded.

"They're clearer," she said, making her way to the bed and sitting on the edge. Grissom moved to join her. "But they're still so… disjointed. I just want to remember. Everything. Is that so hard?"

He sat next to her, cautiously. He could only imagine how frustrating it must be for her, memories so close, but just out of reach. If he knew his wife, she probably exhausted herself several times daily trying to make sense of things.

"Would it help," he began. "If I… helped fill in the gaps? Told you stories, showed you pictures…"

He trailed off at the shaking of Sara's head.

"It just makes things worse," she said dejectedly. "More confusing. I have to remember on my own."

They sat in silence a few more moments before Grissom covered her hand with his. She was surprised by his touch, and her fingers jerked a little. He pulled his hand back. She instantly felt guilty. She knew he was only trying to help, but she wasn't ready for it… not yet.

"You'll remember, honey," he said. "We'll get there together."

She wanted to believe him. But she was so exhausted, that she was having a hard time stringing two sentences together. He must have noticed the tired circles under her eyes, because he suggested bed and began to help her get ready. It was uncomfortable, but with one arm in a cast and bruises still covering the majority of her body, she had little choice in the matter. Soon enough, they had her in a pair of cotton pajama pants and an oversized Harvard t-shirt. He helped her into bed, but hung back a few inches, obviously unsure of how to act around her. Her reaction to his touch earlier had definitely worried him. She wished she could summon something to say to comfort him, but she didn't have a clue what it would be, and she couldn't seem to muster the energy, anyway.

"I'm glad you're home, Sara."

She gave him a faint smile.

"Me too."

He went to switch off the light, paused, and turned back towards her. It looked like he was contemplating kissing her. She wanted badly to please him, to put his worries at ease a little, but the mere thought of being anything close to intimate with him was filling her entire body with fear. She wanted to roll over, but remembered her casted arm and wiggled around a little instead, hoping he sensed her discomfort. He did. He cleared his throat and wandered to the other side of the bed.

"Is it okay if I sleep with you tonight?"

She hesitated again. She knew her answer would hurt him, but she couldn't think of any other way. She wanted him to understand that just coming home was overwhelming enough right now. She couldn't handle much else. If she was being honest with herself, he was really making things even more complicated. She was conflicted enough.

"Grissom…"

"It's okay," he cut her off before she could say any more. "It's… it's okay, Sara. I understand. There's a, uh, couch in the living room. I'll be out there if you need me."

"Thanks."

With a click of the door, he was gone and the room was dark and quiet. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt a wayward tear run down her cheek. This was hard for him and she knew it. But as much as she wanted to, she couldn't instantly return to the life she'd forgotten the moment the drunk driver's car made contact with Nick's. She couldn't just pick right up where they left off. It would take some time.

* * *

She woke up the next morning uncomfortable and starving. She hadn't had much of an appetite for the last few days at the hospital, but she suddenly felt like she could eat a three-course meal. The smell of waffles made her poke her head out of the bedroom, reluctant as she was to be alone with Grissom.

"Hi," he said when he saw her.

The way his face lit up when she shuffled into the kitchen, good arm pulling at the seam of her t-shirt and gnawing at her lip in anxiety, made her feel instantly guilty. Only the desire to make it up to him for last night made her take the final few steps into the kitchen and take a seat at the table, pulling her legs beneath her. Grissom set a heaping plate of waffles in front of her and she dug in, appreciating that Grissom was sipping his coffee quietly. She still wasn't in the mood for much conversation. Only when her plate was cleared did he speak again.

"I was thinking," he began. "Maybe we should take a walk after you get dressed. The fresh air might be good after being inside the hospital for so long."

Sara thought about this for a moment before giving her answer.

"Sure," she said. "That sounds like a good idea."

* * *

By Vegas standards, it was a pretty nice day. Not hot enough for heat waves to be raising up from the pavement, but just comfortably warm enough. Sara didn't want to walk far, but she had to admit, the fresh air was feeling good. She took deep breaths full of it, trying to recognize the neighborhood as they walked, but failing miserably.

"Have you, uh… heard from Greg or anyone lately?" he asked, breaking their silent stroll.

"Yeah," she answered. "He called earlier."

"Oh," Grissom said, a little surprised. "That's… who you were talking to before we left."

Sara nodded.

"He's really sweet," she conceded. "He… tries to help, but I don't have the heart to tell him it's not doing any good."

This time Grissom nodded, and Sara realized how uncomfortable their conversation was. She wished she could do something about it, but again, was coming up at a loss about what.

They turned a corner and Sara peered at the street sign, trying to gain familiarity of their surroundings. Eastern.

She stopped short. Grissom stopped too, concerned.

"Sara? You okay?"

She was pulled from her trance and stared into his eyes.

"Yeah."

She started walking again and Grissom caught up with her soon enough, quiet, but obviously worried. She tried to keep her face calm, but inside, she was spinning.

She saw nothing but a blinding light, heard nothing but a deafening honk. But the harder she tried to remember more, the more distant the memories seemed. She kept walking, kept up with the sparse conversation, but she was shaken.

It wasn't until that night, when Sara lay in bed, alone again, that she remembered more, remembered what she thought was almost everything about the crash. She remembered everything.

The good and the… mistake.

* * *

**TBC!**


	6. Where Loyalties are Questioned

**A/N: **Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed so far, you have no idea how much I appreciate it! It looks like this story is rounding out to be eight chapters long, so two left after this! I hope you guys will continue to enjoy the story and where it's going.

* * *

The next few days moved at a slow and steady pace. Sara was still sore, and she spent most of the day sleeping. Grissom took advantage of the situation to wait on her hand and foot, not that she needed much more than a bit of food every once in a while, lots of fluids and help moving around. He felt a little guilty. He knew the woman he married was so independently minded, she scoffed at the thought of needing to be taken care of. But this situation was different. Grissom wanted nothing more than for her to return to full health, and he would do anything he could to help her get there.

And physically, she was getting there. She felt better every day, and was able to do more things on her own. Her memory was still shaky. She got frustrated every time she tried to talk about it. From what Grissom could gather, she had established general facts – her job, her marriage, her relationships with the team – but the details were still fuzzy. Every once in a while, in a dream, or sometimes out of nowhere, she would recall a memory as clear as day – Greg getting hurt at the crime scene, going to drinks with Catherine, shopping in Paris with Grissom – but out of context, the scenes made her more frustrated than ever. He knew she was waiting for the miracle moment when everything came back to her. The doctors said a phrase, image or situation might trigger it, but everything he had tried so far hadn't worked. He tried mentioning things from their history she ought to remember, but nothing rang a bell. Each failed attempt made him more and more disappointed. He was saddened that Sara couldn't remember anything about their history together. He was afraid that she doubted her decision of choosing him. What if she didn't see whatever it was she saw last time? He was going to have to try everything he could to make sure he didn't lose her.

He knew the two of them living together was slightly uncomfortable for her. Despite knowing, for sure now, that they were married, the missing pieces left her feeling incomplete. She tended to stay very quiet throughout the day, seemed nervous when they were alone together, and still positively flinched at his touch. It broke his heart.

Three days after she was released from the hospital, a little over a week from the accident, he had convinced her out of bed at 10 a.m., positively early for her nowadays. He made her pancakes and hash browns, but she only poked at the half a grapefruit in the bowl beside them.

"You want to take a walk, after your doctor's appointment this afternoon?" he asked.

Sara shrugged noncommittally. The walks were supposed to build her strength, but he knew she was still nervous spending so much time alone with him.

"Nick called," he tried again. "If you're not up for a walk, I think he'd like to come over and see you."

At this, Sara stopped poking her grapefruit and lifted her eyes to meet Grissom's.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Yeah, I'd like to see him."

For the brief few moments they held eye contact, Grissom studied her. She seemed… conflicted.

"Are you okay, Sara?"

He reached out and put a few fingers on tops of hers. Her hand flinched below him, but, a tribute to her, she didn't pull away.

"I'm fine."

It was the same phrase she had told him on the sidewalk outside the lab that day of the explosion, and the words held as much truth now as they did then. The gaping, bleeding cut on her hand betrayed her that day, and this time, it was the frown on her face and the furrow between her brows.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

At this, Sara looked positively frightened. He wondered what he had said wrong.

"No…"

"Okay," he said, attempting to be untroubled, attempting to ignore the worry on her face.

Later, he cleared her half-eaten grapefruit from the table and watched her retreating form go into the bedroom. This was starting to get hard on him, too. She was right beside him, and yet, she felt so far away. It was like living with the ghost of Sara, one who looked and sounded a lot like the woman he fell in love with, but had all of the important stuff missing. He missed his Sara.

The appointment at the doctor's went all right. Dr. Victor was impressed with how well she was moving around. As she pulled her coat on, however, the doctor pulled Grissom aside.

"I'm concerned about her memory," he said. Sara had been short with him when he inquired about what she remembered, and was obviously as disappointed as she was that she couldn't recall more. "Nothing has triggered it so far?"

"Nothing I've tried," Grissom said gravely. "And I've done everything I can think of. But she gets so frustrated when she notices I'm trying."

"Do your best," Dr. Victor said as equally serious. "And try to be patient. She's trying hard, too."

The doctor left and Grissom snuck a glance at Sara, standing quietly near the corner of the room. He sighed just a little before going over to her, putting a soft hand on the crook of her back, and guiding her out the door.

A black car was waiting for them in the driveway when they arrived home. Nick's rental car, Grissom recognized. His truck was still in the shop, being repaired from the damages made from the drunk driver's crash. Nick's arm was still in a cast, but Grissom knew he had been back at work for a few days now, working exclusively in the lab until he fully recovered. Grissom knocked softly on the driver's side window, alerting Nick to their arrival.

"Griss, hi," Nick said distractedly, his eyes already looking past him to Sara.

"Hi, Nick," Grissom greeted. "How are you holding up?"

Nick nodded.

"Okay."

He strode past Grissom and made his way over to Sara, enveloping her in a careful hug, around bruises and casts. Grissom tried to look away, give them a few private minutes, but he had a hard time tearing his eyes away. When they pulled apart, Sara's eyes were watery, and Nick's hand was still buried in her hair.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" he asked. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess," he heard Sara sigh, frustration in her voice, but without a hint of hostility. "I just feel lousy… all the time."

Nick nodded sympathetically. His hand moved down her good arm and grasped her hand.

"Memories?"

Sara raised and lowered a shoulder. Grissom saw a few tears escape from her eyes. And he saw Nick reach out to wipe them away.

"Sara, I'm so sorry," Nick said.

"Nick, it is not your fault," Sara said firmly. "Don't blame yourself. It just makes things worse."

"I should have… been looking closer, I should have paid better attention," Nick said, distracted. "God, I am _so_ sorry, Sara."

"Nick," Sara pleaded, tugging at his fingers. "Please don't apologize. I don't blame you for anything. Please?"

Nick stared at her for a few moments, with a teary smile on his face.

"Okay," he said quietly.

Sara smiled at him and nodded.

"Okay," she repeated.

They started walking towards the front door, hand in hand, and Grissom took that as his cue to rejoin the company. He didn't say anything, and he wasn't about to pretend that he wasn't a little upset over what had just happened. He knew Nick was only trying to comfort Sara, and vice versa, but he couldn't help but feel searing pains of jealousy each time Nick touched his wife and she let him.

Once inside, Nick and Sara went straight to the couch and sat beside each other, Nick's arm around Sara's shoulders. Grissom cleared his throat to remind them of his presence.

"You want anything to drink, Nick?" Grissom offered, not bothering to keep out the traces of hostility in his voice.

"I'm okay, thanks."

Grissom sat on the couch opposite them. Sara was staring at him expectantly. He said nothing. Finally, she let out a frustrated sigh.

"Can we have a few minutes alone, please?"

Confusion took over his being. He was reminded of the day at the hospital, when Sara had asked for Nick so soon after waking up. He tried to calm the flames of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, but they were roaring. It took everything in him to stand up from the couch and walk away. He made his way to the bedroom and closed the door behind him. What was this all about?

In the living room, Sara took Nick's hand again and took a deep breath before she started.

"I remembered something yesterday," she said slowly. "I wanted to talk to you about it before I say anything to… to Grissom."

"Go ahead," Nick urged her gently.

"We kissed," she said simply. Nick gaped at her. "We… Grissom and I… went on a walk past where the accident happened. I think he was trying to jog something in my memory. I didn't tell him but… it worked."

Nick kept silent, only nodding.

"I didn't remember much, but I've been piecing things together since then. About what happened. I remember going out for drinks because I was feeling down. I remember seeing the car coming straight at us. But before that, I remember… I remember kissing you."

Nick swallowed hard. This wasn't going to be easy.

"We did, Sara," he confirmed. "Kiss."

Inside the bedroom, Gil Grissom stood frozen in place near the door. A tidal wave of emotions was crashing over him – hurt, disappointment, anger, and jealousy. He had never so much as wished a bad day upon Nick Stokes, but suddenly, he felt an overwhelming urge to hit him square in the jaw. He couldn't contain it any longer. He threw open the door and strode out into the living room, obviously surprising both Nick and Sara, who both jumped at his entrance. He looked Nick square in the eyes. He saw guilt and defensiveness there, and the younger man saw pure anger in return.

"I trusted you," he said evenly, resentment thick in his voice. His gaze shifted over to Sara, who looked both shameful and defensive. "And you."

"Griss-"

"Do not," Grissom said loudly, cutting Nick off. "Try to explain this to me. I don't want to even look at you right now."

"Grissom, please," Nick tried again, standing from the couch. "Just listen to me for a second."

Grissom strode across the living room, nearer to Nick. Sara remained frozen on the couch, unsure of what to do or say, throwing frantic glances from Nick to Grissom and back.

"I can't think of anything you could possibly say that would make me listen," Grissom practically spat. "Get out of this apartment."

Nick looked hurt. Grissom had never spoken to him like this before, and coming from a man he respected and loved, it was hitting a nerve. Nick threw a pleading look towards Sara, hoping that she, maybe, would be able to calm Grissom down.

"Gil, please," she said quietly.

Grissom turned towards her, breathing heavily. He had never been this angry in his life.

"I don't want to talk to you either," he said. "You betrayed me."

"Grissom-" Nick tried again.

Grissom turned his attention back towards him and closed the few feet between them.

"Get out of this apartment," he repeated.

The two men stood inches apart, both red in the face and breathing heavy. Sara kept looking from one to the other, starting to fear that the fight might turn physical. She was still confused; she didn't know who to defend or what to say to make it stop. She closed her eyes and tried thinking back to that night, the moments leading up to the accident, and how she was feeling when it happened.

"I was so lonely," she said quietly, all of the emotion coming back to her at once. "I missed you so much, I couldn't stand it any more. Nick was… he was just trying to help."

"He helped by kissing you?" Grissom said sarcastically.

"It didn't mean anything, Griss," Nick said, pleading with his eyes for Grissom not to haul off and punch him. "I promise."

But Grissom's bubbling anger was not dying down.

"A kiss is a kiss," he said. "And both of you betrayed my trust."

"You know how I feel about Sara," Nick said, looking hopeful that Grissom would understand. "She's like my sister and what happened that night was a mistake, but it wasn't anything more. I would never do anything to hurt her, or you, or your marriage. I promise."

Grissom's fists stayed clenched as his sides, as if to prevent them to do something more violent. Nick continued.

"It was… two friends trying to cheer each other up. Nothing more."

At those words Grissom's eyebrows shot up his forehead. That was not how he remembered cheering up friends. He looked at Nick as if he was seeing him for the first time.

Sara seemed to sense the rising anger in him and she finally stood from the couch to stand eye level with the two men.

"Don't you see?" she said softly. "I was tired, and upset, and lonely and… it was the closest I could get to you."

Grissom tore his eyes away from Nick to turn to his wife. She looked so sad and small and, despite himself, despite all the anger he felt, he felt a tiny bit of guilt clawing its way to the surface. Maybe, just maybe, he played a role in all this, too. The longer their long distance marriage had remained, the less he had called to check in on her. Ask her how she was actually feeling. Tell her he missed her. And loved her. He couldn't say that was an excuse for her betrayal, but he wasn't blameless. Maybe it was time he realized that.

Maybe this change in feeling was betrayed in his eyes, because Sara offered him a tiny, shy smile. He couldn't find it in his heart to return it, but he no longer felt like making Nick Stokes his personal punching bag. Where Sara was concerned, he had a hard time keeping his emotions in check. He was vaguely aware that Nick was speaking again.

"Griss," he said. "It didn't mean-"

Grissom held his hand up to stop him. He still couldn't sit and speak civilly to him yet.

"I think you need to go," he said, as calmly as he could.

He saw Nick throw an apologetic look at Sara before shyly backing out into the front hallway and closing the door behind him. Grissom turned towards Sara. She looked initially nervous, but she took a deep breath and steeled herself. Grissom took several breaths too, trying to bring his emotions into check.

"I think we need to talk."

* * *

**TBC!**


	7. Things Remembered

**A/N: **Thanks for all your responses and reviews to the story so far, I love every one of them! And thanks for sticking with me, the angst is on its way out, I promise...

* * *

Confrontation: a meeting of persons face to face, an open conflict of opposing ideas, forces, etc.

In its definition, it doesn't seem so intimidating. But the dictionary doesn't describe the fluttering of butterflies, the increased heartbeat and the anxiety that often accompanies a confrontation, everything that Sara Sidle was feeling as she sat gingerly on the sofa cushions, close enough but still far enough away from her husband on the other end.

"The closest… you could get to me?" he said, echoing her earlier words.

She nodded.

"I just… wanted you, so badly, and that… desperation just took over," she tried to explain.

When he stayed quiet for the next several moments, she tried again.

"I just want to make this clear," she said. "I still don't remember much of anything about our marriage and our relationship. But I do remember that night. I do know it was a mistake, something that should have never happened. But what I can't remember is why. W_hy_ was I so lonely? Why was I so desperate?"

Grissom blinked at her and she continued.

"If our marriage was… is… working, how could I be lonely enough to want to kiss a friend?"

Grissom couldn't tell if she wanted her question answered, but it definitely made him think. Her words started to bring back the feeling that had emerged just before Nick left, the rising sense of guilt and the idea that he, in fact, _did _have something to do with what happened between Nick and Sara that night. That sometimes, he didn't treat Sara how she deserved to be treated and he didn't pay her enough attention to mirror how much he loved her.

"Sara, our marriage is unique," he began. "But our love for each other… that's real. And it's strong. No matter what country or city we happen to be in, we know that nothing is going to change that."

He slid just a few inches closer to her on the sofa.

"You're… everything to me, Sara," he said, surprising himself at how easily the words were flowing from his mouth. "You've made me a better man… you've made me _who _I am. You're… the reason its worth getting up in the mornings. You're the reason I'm so happy. You're my heart, Sara, my everything."

For several pulsating moments, Sara's brown eyes locked with Grissom's blue ones, and they stared into the depths of each other, until Sara tore her gaze away and fixated it firmly on the hands folded in her lap. Her jaw was tight and square, and her eyes slightly narrowed, as if she were warning herself not to cry. The reaction wasn't exactly what Grissom had anticipated. He studied her as she continued to stare unyieldingly at her lap and remain silent.

"Sara?"

She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. He didn't know what he expected to see in her eyes when they made contact again with his own, but it wasn't profound frustration.

"What's wrong?"

He reached out to touch her, and her hand made the automatic, now normal gut reaction to pull away. She became distracted again, and couldn't meet his gaze, her eyes falling on every place but him.

"Grissom," she began as he realized how much he missed her calling him Gil. "This is a conversation for… two ably-minded people."

She glanced at him apologetically before looking away again.

"I can't do this," she said softly. "I can't return those words, because I don't know how I _feel_. I know I must love you. It's… really not hard to see why. But I can't have this conversation until I'm able to reciprocate. I just… I can't do this."

"Sara-"

"All I can tell you right now is what happened that night of the accident was out of loneliness," she said, cutting him off. "That much I know. I remember clear as day how I felt that night and it wasn't pretty. But until I can remember more… I can't have this conversation with you. I can't talk about a marriage and a love that I can't remember. I'm sorry."

Her apology was curt. He was disappointed to feel a rising frustration in himself, too. He'd been living with the ghost of his wife for the last week, and he wanted nothing more than to sit with her, be with her, and talk about what needed to be discussed. He needed to assure her that their marriage was okay, that _they _were okay, and he needed to hear affirmation in response. He needed to know that she didn't hate him when they were apart, resent their long-distance relationship and only pretend to be okay when they talked or met. He needed to know.

And Sara could sense it. She knew he wanted her to stay there with him and talk until it was all okay. But she couldn't, just literally couldn't do it, no matter how much she didn't want to let him down. The apartment was suddenly suffocating her. She needed to get out of it, away from the pressure for her to remember things she just couldn't remember. As much as she wanted to.

She rose from the couch abruptly.

"S-Sara?" Grissom stuttered, surprised. "Where are you going?"

She tried to look apologetic.

"I have to go for a walk."

"Is that really a good idea?"

"It's not you," she sighed, trying to explain, though she didn't want to. "I'm not… walking out on you. I just really need to clear my head."

Grissom studied her sadly, taking in every inch of her.

"Be careful."

"I'll be back soon."

She inched around the coffee table, grabbing a windbreaker from the kitchen as she passed and slipped out the door into the night.

* * *

After Sara left, Gil Grissom did something he hadn't done in a long, long while. He cried.

The last time in recent memory that he remembered shedding more than one tear was at Warrick's funeral. A day he didn't care to relive, and he pushed the thought from his head for fear of becoming even more emotional.

He was probably being pathetic, he knew it. But he couldn't stop the tears. He cried less for himself, and more for Sara and how much she was hurting. But most of all, he cried for what he was missing.

He missed Sara, _his_ Sara, so goddamn much. He wanted the light to return to her eyes, the smile to her face and the bounce to her step. He wanted to be able to touch her without her flinching or looking like she wanted to run away. He wanted to feel her long, warm body curled up against him as they talked late into the night. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to make love to her. He wanted so many things, and yet, he didn't know how to get them. And so, he cried.

When the tears ran dry, he was restless. He didn't know what to do with himself without her. He wanted to go after her, to find her, but he knew that's not what she wanted. He'd learned that the first time. He'd learned by now that sometimes, Sara needed her space. But she always came back to him. He would wait for her.

For her, he'd wait forever.

* * *

After she left, Sara did a lot of wandering the neighborhood. She never strayed too far; to make sure she could find her way back. She was pretty sure she'd be able to find her way anyways, but better safe than sorry.

It wasn't a particularly picturesque neighborhood. All the buildings looked the same, each block a clone of the last. The pattern was comforting to her, though. Familiarity was something she'd been lacking for a long while. But she soon became restless, and settled down on a park bench to people watch the stragglers that were lingering around the park at twilight.

She watched as a group of teenagers skulked around, passing a cigarette between them. She watched a dad and his son play basketball on the blacktop. She watched as bodies moved the swings back and forth, back and forth. She watched a pig-tailed girl draw on the blacktop, a quite a few yards away from the one-on-one basketball game, with pink chalk.

Chalk.

_Chalk._

Sara had never had an out of body experience, but that was the only way to describe what happened. She was suddenly standing outside a different apartment building, where it was quite darker that it was a minute ago and she watched herself shrug and say, "chalk".

Chalk.

She could see what _that _Sara that night saw. It was Grissom.

Grissom.

She saw more. Her and Grissom holding hands, kissing on the Golden Gate Bridge. Grissom taping her wrists in a car. Placing a blanket around his shoulders as he sat on a folding chair outside. Grissom pinning her down. Grissom kissing her. Herself kissing him. Holding his hand in a helicopter. Trying to kiss with a beekeeping helmet. Getting married. Costa Rica. Paris. She remembered.

Everything.

All of it.

Grissom.

Gil.

* * *

A knock at the door nearly made him jump out of his socks. He put down the book he'd been pretending to read for the last hour and hurried to the door to pull it open. Sara was standing there, her chest heaving as if she'd just run several miles, breaths coming in quick and heavy. They stared at each other for a few minutes.

"I remember."

His knees nearly buckled. He wanted to gather up in her arms right then and there, but a lingering look of vulnerability in her eyes made him stay where he was.

"Everything?"

"Everything," she said, so softly he could barely hear her over the booming thunder. "All of it. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, honey."

He stepped out onto the front step, the night's wind howling around him, but despite the chilliness of the night, he felt a warmth sweep through his body as he pressed Sara against him. She was shaking at first, but began to calm the longer she stood wrapped tightly in his arms. His nose brushed the curve of her ear.

"Welcome home, Sara."

* * *

**TBC! With one last chapter...**


	8. Love Eternal

**A/N:** We've reached the end of this little story! Thanks to everybody who has read and reviewed so far, I appreciate it more than you know.

Thanks, ILoveJorja, for ALL your help on this throughout. It would have been a different story without you.

* * *

They stood in the front hallway of Sara's apartment, Grissom pressing her as close to him as he could without injuring her arm, but Sara stood limp in his embrace.

"What's wrong, honey?"

She wriggled out of his grasp a little.

"I don't know how you can even stand to look at me right now," she said guiltily. "Gil, I'm so sorry. I don't even-"

"Don't," he interrupted her softly. She glanced up at him. "Don't, Sara. Seriously. You've been through enough, _we've _been through enough. It doesn't even matter any more, now that I have you back."

She still looked unsure and Grissom reached out to touch her cheek. She leaned into his touch and Grissom felt a low rumble tremble through his abdomen. It had seemed like forever since she accepted his affection.

"Just know," he continued. "That I love you, I forgive you, and I missed you so much."

She pressed herself against him, putting her one good arm around his middle this time, and buried her head in his chest.

"Do you forgive me?" he said into her hair.

With his chin resting on her head, he couldn't see her expression, but her next words came out confused.

"For what?"

"For not giving you the attention you deserve," he answered. "I won't do that again. I don't ever want you to forget how much I love you."

Sara lifted her gaze to meet his and, finally, Grissom recognized the woman who looked back at him. It was the Sara he'd fallen in love with, almost lost, married and couldn't live without. His Sara.

He felt her coming nearer to him, their breaths mingling, lips only centimeters apart. He felt her start to kiss him, slow and hesitant at first, but as he slipped fingers in her hair and her good hand gripped at his back, it grew more urgent. Her tongue was in his mouth, she knew what that did to him, and, sure enough, he soon felt his knees buckling against him. Sara showed him no mercy and backed him up against the wall, nearly knocking over a pile of letters on the hallway table, stronger than ever, even while still recovering. Their mouths and tongues were thrashing against each other and Sara's body was so close, he felt it was a sin that there was clothing preventing him from touching her, really feeling her. He felt an overwhelming desire for his wife, after being so long prevented from being with her.

And yet, as Sara started working on his neck, he couldn't help but glance at the bruises on her neck and chest, and her still casted arm. The last thing he wanted to do now was hurt her.

She must have sensed his hesitancy, because she pulled away, a look of slight concern on her face.

"Is everything okay?" she breathed.

"Yeah," he smiled at her. "I just… don't know if you're ready for this."

"I'm always ready for you."

His knees almost gave out again. Her soft, warm mouth was on the skin of his neck again, and he had a harder time pulling away again.

"Sara, I don't want to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me," she said between kisses.

"But-"

She pressed a finger to his lips.

"Gilbert," she said tantalizingly. "Please. I want this. I want _you_. _Now_."

She resumed her exploration of his neck, and he let her, tilting his head back against the wall for better access. Her hand lingered on his chest, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt and slipping her cold hand underneath the material. Her touch made him tremble.

"God, Sara, I've missed you so much."

She nibbled on his ear a little before pulling away from him just slightly.

"I'm going to need your help."

"Help?"

She shrugged her right arm out of her jacket sleeve, but looked up pleadingly when it hung from her other shoulder.

He chuckled at her and carefully guided the jacket over her cast. She nuzzled her face in his chest and looked up at him.

"More."

His fingers lingered at the hem of her silky plum shirt, but he started tugging it over her arms and head, leaving her standing before him with only the dark lace of her bra contrasting with the soft paleness of her skin. He ran a hand down her bare arm and left goose bumps in its wake. He trailed a finger down her chest and across her stomach, and she leaned into him again.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, Sara."

They began to stumble towards the bedroom, Grissom's finger working at the button to Sara's jeans. She shook them off her legs before they got to the doorway. Grissom placed her carefully atop the mattress, running his hands down her sides, appreciating and memorizing every curve of her body.

"You are beautiful."

He crawled on top of her, mindful of her arm and other injuries, and began to kiss every inch of her, making his way to her mouth, where he first kissed her softly, then deeply. She managed to work his shirt off, and he relished the feel of her skin against his. But again, he paused. Sara looked up at him, concerned.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I just… I don't wanna-"

"Don't," Sara assured him and interrupted him at once. "This is what I want. _You_ are all I want."

He couldn't help but smile at her and he resumed kissing her, this time, on the crook behind her ear. She whispered to him.

"Although, I think you'll have to be, you know, on top, this time," she said. He pulled away to look at her, bemused. She nodded towards her cast. "Logistics."

At that, Grissom burst out laughing. His wife, discussing the logistics of their sex. When he cracked open his watery eyes, she was smiling at him, but studying him curiously.

"What?"

"I love your laugh," she said seductively. She reached out and brushed a finger through his hair. "I love your hair."

Her finger trailed down to his chin. "I love this."

She continued down his body, pointing out things she adored.

"But most of all, I love-"

She reached out suddenly, grabbing his crotch through his jeans.

"This."

Grissom gasped at her touch and was suddenly aware that he had too many clothes on him, and she still had too many on her, if he was to be perfectly honest. He took care of that problem in a matter of seconds. Before he knew it, it was nothing but him and Sara, touching each other, feeling each other, being together and all over each other. Their kisses were both deep and urgent, their touches both lingering and curious. Every finger she laid on him felt like electricity, bringing a jolt of life to his body, lighting him up like only Sara could. It was both romantic passion and burning urgency, their touches, needy and loving at the same time. He felt as if the events of the past weeks faded away to distant memory when he was with Sara like this, the only reminders the lingering bruises on her body. His mouth touched them, too, as if wishing to kiss them away.

It was when Grissom kissed the inside of her thigh, and Sara moaned in response, that it was made quite clear that neither of them could take it much longer. He wriggled a little, under the sheets, positioning himself at her entrance. He looked into her eyes, she stared back at him, and they stayed locked in their gaze.

"Do I tell you how much I love you?" she whispered, breaking the silence.

"You don't need to," he replied. "I know."

She smiled back at him, and Grissom pushed into her, hearing her gasp as he filled her. He rocked against her, being gentle to her, as her hips swiveled with his movements, like two pieces, two parts of something whole that were made to work together. Their lips met again, and this time, it was all urgency, hard breaths and pants, as they started to climb together. Grissom could feel her quivering beneath him, yet he still slipped his fingers between them, rubbing her gently, then harder, in the very spot he knew she liked. Sure enough, Sara's head threw back onto the pillow, her back arching. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her jaw clenched, and Grissom knew she was close.

"Go, honey," he panted. "Let go."

Miraculously, Sara managed to open her eyes and grab his gaze.

"Together?" she gasped, fingernails digging into the flesh of his back.

"Go," he repeated, all he was able to manage.

He felt Sara release, and he was right behind her, crashing into the place only Sara could take him. As he came down, he didn't roll of her, yet stayed above her, kissing her sweaty forehead, her flushed cheeks and everywhere in between. He couldn't get enough of her. He didn't even pull out of her, as he eventually moved to lay beside her, not wanting to lose the intimate contact.

So they lay, Sara's breasts against his chest, their noses almost touching, as Grissom noticed how blissfully happy she looked for the first time in weeks, and he felt at ease, for the first time in weeks. Everything was right again.

No more words were spoken for a very long time afterwards, not when they began to kiss, not when they made love again, only twenty minutes later, and not even when they laid still again, Sara's back to Grissom's chest this time, his arm draped loosely around her waist and his thumb making absent patterns on her stomach. No words were needed. They had each other.

They stayed wrapped in each other for what seemed like hours, until Grissom began wrestling against the sheets, struggling to twist his body around.

"What are you doing?" Sara giggled.

"One last thing to take care of," Grissom responded, reaching for the phone.

He punched in a handful of numbers, obviously not caring what time of the night it was, and pressed the phone to his ear for a few rings before he began talking. Sara couldn't hear the other side of the phone line, but she could guess well enough to whom he was speaking.

"Grissom. Look, I… understand. I'm not happy about it, but I understand. I'm not angry with you, disappointed in you and I don't want to put you into a Peruvian mass grave. I really just want to forget the entire thing happened. Can we do that?"

There was a pause. Sara assumed Nick was ardently agreeing.

"Good. And take this friendly warning however you like, but I do need to tell you, if you ever kiss my wife again, I'll turn you _into _a decomp."

Grissom smiled.

"Goodnight, Nick."

He hung up the phone and turned back towards Sara, a wide smile on his face. She curled back up to him, practically nose-to-nose.

"I think he got the picture."

"Just covering my bases."

Sara laughed and Grissom's smile stretched wider.

"What?"

"I love hearing you laugh," Grissom answered. "I missed it."

Sara responded by closing the few inches between them, pressing her lips to her husband's and kissing him, deeply and passionately. They didn't stop for a long while afterwards, both seemingly desperate to make up for lost time. It was very late by the time Grissom spoke again, and Sara was laying pressed against him once more.

"Sara?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Grissom felt his wife smile against his chest.

"I love you, too."

He felt his whole body warm at her words. Only she could ever make him feel this complete. He stroked her curls absentmindedly.

"Hey, Sara?"

"Hm?"

"Can we… not do the long-distance any more?"

Sara froze a second before wiggling around in the sheets, propping her head on her elbow to see him properly.

"Really?"

"Really. I mean, if you want to."

Sara looked like she could cry. But instead, she leaned into kiss him again, and when she pulled away, she murmured a single word onto his lips.

"Yes."

He pulled his wife tighter to him, feeling happier than he ever had. If he had his way, he'd never spend another night apart from Sara. And by the way she was squeezing him back, it looked like he just might have his way.

* * *

**The End**


End file.
